We all sat quietly in the room on Zenobia Station, trying to shake off the colossal after effects of our time in the pub while simultaneously trying to suss out exactly WHY we were on Zenobia.
Of course, we'd been told and through the fog in our minds, we had heard, and even partially understood our purpose here, but even still, we were thoroughly confused. It was during this time of muddled introspection that we were joined by a new Time Lord.
He was youngish looking, perhaps mid-twenties by human standards, probably in the eight hundreds by Gallifreyan (though, owing to the nature of regeneration this estimate is completely meaningless, as a Time Lord in his late teens, if he had undergone regeneration, could appear to be a frail old man, and vice versa.). He wore clothing that was clearly of Terrestrial origin: a black, silk shirt, his collar open at the top button, a black leather jacket and black trousers. He wore black sunglasses, not very dissimilar to my own red ones. His face was... not precisely stoic, but not terribly expressive, either. He walked in, quite casually, and sat down in a chair in the center of the room.
"You all have, it seems, been a bit naughty," the new Time Lord said, not really giving any indication of what his purpose was, "Well, you're in luck. The Lord President has appointed me as your solicitor. I'm The Voyager. You can call me Voy."
"I'm The Mad..." I began.
"Excuse me...Voy... but why is the Doctor suing us?" sapphire asked, clearly distressed by the situation at hand.
"Well...sapphire, is it?" she nodded, "It seems your group has been interfering in the Doctor's life and travels. including..." The Voyager produced a notepad from a pocket in his jacket, "Multiple accounts of damage to his TT Capsule, such as damage to the chameleon circuit, some kind of...stain...in the primary console room...theft of said TT Capsule..."
"Yes, but why is is suing US?" sapphire asked again.
"I...just went over that."
"Yes, but I didn't do any of that. That was this lot. I'm not involved at all."
"Yes, well, that's as maybe, but he's named the crew of three different TARDISes, and you are among them. Now, we were only able to locate the one TARDIS, which is the one you were brought here in. That's going to be a part of your case. I've got one of New Gallifrey's finest TARDIS psy-readers communicating with it now."
With this, Voy proceeded to reach into his jacket and pull out an old, Terran "ball and cup" game, idlly playing with it, almost losing track of where he was.
For several minutes, I sat and watched him, the clack-clack-clack of the wooden ball trying and failing to get into the cup driving rail-spikes deep into my frontal lobes. Finally, being unable to take anymore, I took aim with my ultra-plasmic awl and set it on fire. Oddly, The Voyager, merely blew it out and put it back in his pocket, pulled out a small egg-whisk and looked at it, as though reading something from it, then placed it back in his pocket before speaking again.
"That would be Rowan."
At that, there was a knock on the door.
In walked the Time Lady I assumed (and, to save time, I'll say I assumed correctly) was Rowan. She was dark haired and dressed in what appeared to be a Victorian-era blouse and leather work trousers. She wore a tool belt, which would have seemed incongruous to her attire, had her attire not already been completely incongruous with itself.
"Well," she began, "I've started an initial dialogue with your TTC, Madman. It may assist some with your case. She's really quite a fascinating TARDIS. Brilliant and perhaps even more devoted than most I've encountered. There is something that could be a bit of a problem, though."
"Hmmm?" I replied, "What's that then?"
"Well...." Rowan began, "In addition to the devotion, she's completely psychotic. Delusional. Convinced at different times that she's a TARDIS, an aardvark, a cherry sundae, six pygmies, and a dancer from Las Vegas (I believe that's somewhere in New York. I never had much patience for Earth) named 'Lottie'."
"And... You're telling me she's not?"
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